


a list of ways to show affection

by coorelightgrey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coorelightgrey/pseuds/coorelightgrey
Summary: or: a time in which they kissed, held hands, and supported each other.





	a list of ways to show affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [machuba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/machuba/gifts).



> or: the birthday fic i wrote for my girlfriend 900 years ago (read: like two years ago), thinking i would expand on the concept but have yet to do so. maybe i'll come back to this one day? who knows. i love cats.

 

> **kiss.**

 

They share their first kiss inside an empty clubroom, with aches and bruises from the floors of the gym forming beneath their skin. Yaku leans up, wobbly on the balls of his feet – Fukunaga leans down to compensate for the distance, hands light on his side to hold him steady, hesitant. Fukunaga’s face feels sweaty underneath Yaku’s palms, flushed and sticky from a long, brutal practice. It’s gross.

(Though, when he thinks about it, he’s sure his hands aren’t much better – there’s a light twitch in his fingers, a remnant of anxiety, of nervousness, of confessing his feelings and not expecting anything in return.

“I like you.” Wide eyes, the hint of a smile, and a rapidly nodding head – _I like you, too._ )

It’s no fairy tale first kiss, and Yaku knows it – they’re barely touching despite their negotiations (“Can I kiss you? I mean, if it isn’t—are you sure—”), they’re out of line, he’s damn sure his lips are chapped – but as he pulls away and looks up at Fukunaga, he sees the shimmer in his eyes and the slightest upward curve of his mouth, almost too small to see, and he can’t help but think it’s more than good enough.

 

 

 

> **hold hands.**

 

It’s as they’re walking home together one day, with the sun setting over the horizon and Yaku filling the silence with chatter about everything and nothing that Fukunaga first reaches for his hand. He thinks of the passing years, of lifelines and Kuroo’s pre-match motivational speeches as his fingers brush over Yaku’s skin, briefly tracing over a crease on his palm.

Reactions Fukunaga expected: a small jump before lacing his fingers through his, a little swing, an obvious smile, and an elated heart.

Reactions received: an undignified squawk, sputtering, a blush high in his face, and a conversation derailed for a solid minute.

(“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Yaku explains a few moments later, sensing Fukunaga’s unspoken “why”. Traces of pink linger in his ears as he keeps his eyes focused on the path in front of them. “You communicate with your hands sometimes, so I didn’t want stop you from doing that.”)

For Fukunaga, it’s an ordinary day – the weather was okay, not spectacular, classes weren’t particularly exciting, practice was simply that – but it’s one he knew he wouldn’t forget any time soon.

 

 

 

> **support each other.**

 

The stands are far too crowded for Yaku’s liking – a selfish thought, yes, but with people squishing him on both sides he can’t help wishing for a little elbow room.

It’s a different view from up high. Logically, well under 12 meters between him and the court, but he feels worlds apart from the volleyball players entering the gymnasium – as a spectator he feels none of the pre-game nerves, none of the anxieties, but also no rush of adrenaline upon hearing the roar of the crowds, or the teammates by his side.

From what he’s heard, Nekoma’s changed over the past few months. Yamamoto’s exceeded expectations as captain, Lev’s continued to improve by the practice, Inuoka and Shibayama stepped up as regulars… but, if Yaku were completely honest, there was one person he wanted to see the most.

He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts at the top of his lungs,

“Fukunaga!!”

Embarrassing, perhaps – he’s not the quiet type, but he’s used to scolding at others for being loud, not being the loud one himself – but to draw attention to himself, make himself seen, to say Fukunaga, I’m here, he’d shoot a goddamn confetti cannon to get the job done.

He sees Fukunaga look up in his direction and a million things run through his mind – a million things that consolidate to a single thought, delivered in a single hand gesture.

_I love you._

It’s an unconventional sign, developed between the two of them to communicate beyond words – their little secret. Yaku sees the confusion in Yamamoto’s eyes and what he assumes is an interrogation as Fukunaga raises his hands to sign to in return.

_I love you, too._


End file.
